


The Hound Of Blüdhaven

by AuroraKant



Series: Whumptober2020 [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: And Don't Forget The Humiliation, Angst, Blink And You Miss It Reference To Nightwing #93, Collars, Dick Grayson-centric, Gen, Humiliation, No Sex, No Smut, Objectification, Open Ending, Platonic Restraining And Torture, Poetic Language, She Is Here To Hurt Dick Okay?, The Villain Is Like... Unimportant, Wetting, Whump, forced pet play, non-sexual pet play, oh and, restrains, shackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: When Dick wakes up restrained and stripped to his underwear, he knows he is in some deep shit. It doesn't get any better from there.Day 1:Waking Up Restrained|Shackled| HangingDay 2: "Pick Who Dies" |Collars| Kidnapped
Series: Whumptober2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948651
Comments: 32
Kudos: 85
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. What Does The Dog Say?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my wonderful people!  
> It is Whumptober and as we all know that means it is My time of the year!  
> There are going to be 31 prompts - one for each day, the shortest around 2.6k the largest at... 29k and I hope you enjoy as many as possible!  
> I love your feedback, your ideas, your comments, subscriptions, bookmarks and kudos!
> 
> And just to let you know... I am going to dip my feet into every end of the Whump Spectrum this October, so it is gonna get softer but also darker than this one - Always Read The Warnings And Look After Yourself My Friends!

His eyelids were heavy.

It felt as if he was fighting against the tide, when he tried to open them, something impossible heavy keeping them closed. Dick wanted to focus, wanted to force them open and seeing… but no matter how hard he tried to pry them apart, his mind was just not strong enough.

With a sigh he let his neck muscles relax once more, his shoulders easing back into a resting position. So, what? He was currently between jobs, there was no one to disappoint if he didn’t manage to get out of bed in time. He could just sleep for five more minutes…

But, no, the noise that woke him up hadn’t sounded like his alarm clock. It had sounded like… Dick shifted in his no-longer-sleep, creating the metallic noise once more as he tried to find a comfortable position on the cold ground.

Cold ground?

Something was wrong here. Something was very, very wrong. Adrenaline spiked and Dick had to push the urge to open his eyes down, knowing that he had craved this ability only moments before. But he was already feeling more awake now, and with each whisper of consciousness came the knowledge that opening his eyes unprepared would be or could be a grave mistake.

So, instead he tried to take stock of his situation – and his surroundings – one sense short.

He was laying on metal, the ground beneath him only warm where his… naked skin touched it. Panic spiked through his heart, and for a moment Dick threatened to get swallowed by the horrors of days past and survived, before he realized that he was still wearing his boxer briefs. He was still clothed. At least a little. The piece of fabric might not be much – but so much hinged on that piece of clothing protecting his modesty.

But he could no longer bear to be blind, his mind maybe believing him that he wasn’t in _that kind_ of danger, but his heart doing a far worse job at calming down. He needed something to reassure himself, to help him focus, and if that was a break of protocol then so be it.

The chances that Bruce was here to judge him were rather small, let’s be honest.

It was still disturbingly hard to pry his eyes open – he had probably been drugged and wasn’t that just fun? – and what greeted his eyes almost made him want to close them again. Maybe not knowing just what his current situation looked like had been better. Maybe his heavy lids had protected him form something far, far worse.

Because Dick was in a cage.

It was an animal cage, maybe six to four feet big, the top of the thing only a few feet above Dick’s head, the ceiling so low Dick would have no chance of standing up. The iron bars were laughingly big, but the space between them so narrow maybe his hand would fit through them, but nothing else.

That was, of course, if the iron shackles – warm to the touch thanks to the hours Dick had probably spent in them unconscious – connecting his wrists to the floor of the cage didn’t stop him before he could ever reach the bars at all.

He was caged and bound and chained and stripped.

Maybe now was the correct and appropriate time to panic.

And for a moment Dick let himself get lost in the tides of fear sweeping through his mind, let his heartbeat accelerate, and his breath come in short bursts… but it didn’t take long before his rigorous control fought back, before the years spent training and fighting and training regained their dominance over Dick’s body and mind.

He took a deep breath, forcing his lungs to expand and his heart to calm down, before he redirected his gaze onto his surroundings.

He wasn’t done accessing the situation yet, after all.

The cage was positioned in the far-right corner of a big room, Dick could see the door leading into the space, and he wasn’t sure if that meant that his kidnappers were very clever or very dumb. Maybe both, they had managed to catch Nightwing after all. The room was relatively bare, two other empty cages sitting on either side of Dick, and a table that had shelves underneath decorating the center of this prison.

Light filtered in through small and narrow windows on the left wall and Dick quickly dismissed them as a valid escape route when he noticed the wire running through the glass. He wouldn’t have fit through the tiny space anyways, but it would have calmed him down considerably if he could at least see one way to escape this horrible situation. If he could at least see a tiny bit of freedom.

But he didn’t.

They had stripped him of his gear, leaving only his favorite pair of boxers to protect his virtue, and the lock on the cage seemed to be of proper craftsmanship. Not that Dick could touch it to check if it was as high quality as it looked, his arms only having enough freedom of motion to reach the bars exactly in front of him or to allow Dick to sit up from his position laying on the cold steel.

And that he did. His back was turned towards the wall behind him, his legs crossed in another attempt to appear more in control, more at ease. His arms were awkwardly stretched out in front of him, since the chain didn’t allow him to sit straight otherwise, but Dick tried not to think of the humiliation that threatened the edge of his consciousness as he sat there and waited. And watched.

Maybe it would be easier if Dick could remember more. But his last few memories were hazy at best and downright useless at worst. He had gone out as Nightwing and… His mask! He had forgotten to check if is mask was still protecting his identity!

His heart seized, and for an impossibly long moment the world came to a stop… and then Dick realized that the familiar feeling of spirit gum and Alfred’s genius was still covering his eyes. It was a rookie mistake to forget checking something as important as this, but Dick dared to forgive himself.

He had woken up in an extreme situation. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t accidentally gone to sleep with his mask still on before, the years of work Alfred and Bruce and Lucius had poured into these small pieces of tech ensuring that they weighted barely anything at all and stayed firm even in the worst of storms.

Everything was alright. Nightwing’s identity was still protected.

Only that nothing was alright. Dick was tethering the edge of panic more with each minute nothing happened, with each innocent movement that ended in a chain being pulled taunt and a shackle tugging on his wrist.

He wanted to be free of these horrible contraptions and he wanted his clothes back.

But Dick only so rarely got what he wanted.

The door to the room opened, and through it stepped a pale lady in a black, fitted suit. Her hair was short and well-kept and her eyes screamed danger. A pit opened in Dick’s stomach at the fact that her face was bare, and her smile open and inviting.

She wasn’t dumb, Dick could see that in the three trained ex-special forces men that entered the room behind her. She wasn’t dumb, but that meant that she was clever – and she had let him see her face.

Dick really didn’t like his odds.

She waited until she had almost reached his cage to address him, forcing Dick to look up, the angle uncomfortable for his neck and pride:

“Hello, Nightwing. How do you like your accommodations?”

“Not gonna lie – I had more comfortable stays in Supervillain lairs before.”

His smile promised danger, he made sure it did, showing all his teeth and all his anger, but the woman opposite him only laughed. It was a petit sound, soft where it shouldn’t be, and Dick could feel his stomach curdle:

“That’s because they don’t see you for what you are.”

“And what am I then, Miss Evil-Lady-Who-Doesn’t-Even-Introduce-Herself?”

“You are a _dirty little dog_ , and dogs don’t need to know the names of the people who own them. They only need to learn and listen.”

Dick couldn’t help himself, recoiling as her words hit him. An unsettled feeling crawled over his skin, her smile and cute behavior appearing so much more threatening than it had only moments before. What kind of horror show had Dick managed to get himself into?

“I don’t know if you know that, but dogs look quite different than I do. They have fluffier ears… and fewer abs.”

His wit was trying to regain control, but each word was dust on his tongue, and ash in this verbal battle of theirs.

She was laughing – again – and Dick could no longer find even the smallest hint of softness hidden in it. Instead it sounded cruel, devoid of compassion or empathy. It sounded a lot like the laugh of some of the worst crazies Dick had fought in his time as Robin.

“What do you want?”

His Nightwing charm had left his voice, the sound of his captor’s glee still echoing in his ears, and he hated it. He hated how fast he had lost his composure; how easy it had been for her to get under his skin. Nightwing was a hero and a master of weaponry and danger, but apparently undressing him and chaining him down broke him faster than any amount of torture.

“My, my, why do you people always assume that I have to want something?”

“Because guys like you always do. What is it this time? Money? My identity? Some secret plan? Experiments?”

She crouched down so that her eyes were level with his, before she spoke. Somehow this _evil benevolence_ was so much worse than the humiliation of being forced to stare up at her:

“Maybe the only thing I want for you is to understand your role. You are a dog. _My dog_.”

“But why?”

She smiled at him – and oh, God, Dick needed a name, _something_ , to call her – and her eyes told him that she thought of him as dumb, that he was such a simple young man, no, such a simple _animal_. It was disgust coiling in Dick’s stomach, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of throwing up. He wouldn’t give her any more power than he had to.

“Hah! Why! Isn’t it easy? You run around this city, marking your territory like a bunch of unneutered stray dogs, you attack its people as if you have the rabbis, and then you claim to be some sort of protector who keeps the _vermin_ out.”

Every word spilling from her lips felt like rot sinking into his skin, her ugly allegory in a stark contrast to her pale and colorless beauty. She was a horror painting in black and white, and her words were evil green poison illuminating her ugly side.

“Maybe the _vermin_ wants to show you what a real dog looks like.”

With that she stood up, balancing effortless on her high heels. She was already turning around, rejoining her henchmen by the door, when Dick managed to push a few words past the nausea growing in his stomach:

“Hey! What do plan on doing with me?”

“I am going to train you, until you are no longer a naughty animal, of course. I want my pets well behaved after all.”

Dick didn’t even have to see her face to know that she was smiling.

The door closed, and Dick was alone once more, only that this time there was nothing he could do to stop himself from succumbing to the panic. There was nothing he could do to stop his heart from trying to escape his chest, or his eyes from tearing up.

There was nothing he could do.

No way to escape.

The only thing left were her horrible words playing over and over in his head. The only thing his mind could focus on was the way she said the word “dog” – as if she was saying _Nightwing_ and _Whore_ at the very same time.

They left him alone after that, the waiting grating on his nerves like the shackles rubbing against his wrists. It was getting uncomfortable fast, to sit cross-legged in this cage, unable to stand or find a comfortable position.

He tried.

He tried and tried and _tried_.

And the only thing he managed to do was draw blood from his wrists as he never ceased his hunt for freedom. His hunt for some glimmer of hope or a tendril of possibility.

But with each hour that passed his hope seeped away, his plans of escape becoming less tactical and more fantastical. He no longer planned for keys being stolen and henchmen turned against their boss, he dreamed of Batman sweeping into the room to save Dick.

But that wouldn’t happen.

Not after Blockbuster.

Not after Blüdhaven.

Not after the Joker.

Nightwing was a lost bird now, his daddy wouldn’t come anymore to save his ass. **Stop**. Dick had to stop thinking like this. Giving up now would only make it easier for _her_ to break him. Oh, _her._ He already hated her, and she had only managed to lock him in a cage so far.

There were horrors to come, and Dick wasn’t sure if he was ready for them.

But it was easier to focus on that, on the far future, than the horror he would soon be forced to endure. Because he had been here for hours… maybe even a day. And his throat was parched, his stomach growling in pain and hunger and… and his bladder was ready to burst.

And Dick wasn’t dumb, no matter what her eyes said, he knew what she was doing. He knew what her tactic was. But… but it was so simple Dick had no idea how to keep it from breaking him.

She would push him to the limits of his body, just by giving him nothing. No water, no rest, no food… no toilet. And she would let the shame of having to beg and wet himself do the work for her, making him fragile and broken and malleable.

It was an easy torture tactic. Easy, because it required only one thing from the bastard that enforced it: the ability not to gloat.

Easy, because there was little Dick could do to stop her, chained and bound as he was.

He pushed down the burning sensation in his groin, focusing on the door instead. What would break him down first? The thirst making his head swim or the fact that sooner or later piss would wet the only piece of clothing still covering him.

He didn’t want to find out.

He did have to find out.

The door opened so much later that Dick feared it was already a new day. Dick was counting prime numbers in his head to keep himself occupied, deciding that 1117 was his favorite one.

How long had he been missing? How long had he been forced to endure this horror?

Probably not even forty-eight hours. It felt like more. It felt like an eternity.

“What do you want?”

His voice was scratchy and rough, his throat starved for water and salvation. And yet he asked, maybe in a futile attempt to take back some control.

She was smiling – that damned, cursed smile – when she approached him, her entire body telling him that her night had been a lot more restful than his:

“I wanted to give my new dog some water. He must be thirsty.”

Dick didn’t react, didn’t show any sign that he had heard her. He wouldn’t let her get to him, couldn’t, no matter how much his throat screamed for water, and his stomach asked for food.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I can only give it to you, if you talk to me. Ask for it. Be a good dog. _A good boy_.”

As an answer Dick closed his eyes, taking away the power the twist of her lips tried to enact over him. He wouldn’t cave, even if that meant thirst. He wouldn’t bow to her, even if that meant humiliation. He wouldn’t lose – not yet.

“Be like that”

With that something new got pushed inside the cage, and Dick opened in eyes in panic only to see a cattle rod. There was electricity sparking on top of it, Dick’s stomach already clenching painfully before it connected with his skin.

The current wasn’t strong enough to burn him – but it was strong enough to let his muscles lose control, if only for a moment. A ripple ran through his body, before he fought back control. It had only been a second… only one spasm of uncontrollable electricity…

But that moment had been enough.

Dick knew that she had gotten what she wanted, when she started laughing, cattle rod still in her hand.

The smell of his own urine hit his nose, wetness running down his legs and collecting beneath his ass. He was sitting in his own piss – because she had forced him to wet himself.

“Oh, looks like my little dog isn’t yet house trained. Such a dirty little _pet_.”

“You Bitch!”

The horror of the situation was too much, Dick’s chest contracting and squeezing in humiliation. Tears were burning behind his lids, but he couldn’t let them escape – the horror and the anger so much stronger inside of him. His fists tingled with the urge to hit and scream and fight and his skin crawled with disgust. Disgust at himself.

“Oh, look at you, you already talk like the dog you are.”

With that she left, letting him sit in his own piss, letting him thirst after water and long for some bread.

With that she left, leaving him and his humiliation behind.


	2. Today Has Been RUFF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had managed to make the first dent in Dick's psyche, and she would try her best to destroy him even further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of Whumptober is here!  
> Thanks to everyone who commented and sent me love!!!! <3<3<3  
> You are the reason why this is possible!
> 
> Read the tags and stay save! Your feedback is the best! :D

She came back. She always came back.

It was the horror of routine and the truth of his life.

_She came back._

And she had brought water, the piss already dry in Dick’s crotch, the floor beneath him still wet. When she offered the bottle, Dick had nodded. He had whispered “yes” when she asked him if he wanted it. And he had felt his soul cave. 

The water had been the best thing he ever tasted.

The days passed by after that, as Dick hoped for rescue. As Dick started to be afraid of being seen like this.

She would come once a day, and she would ask him something, or she would offer some commodity – the only catch always being that Dick had to ask for it first.

Sometimes he caved and said yes, and begged, and allowed her to break him further – he had needed that shower to feel human again – and other times he said no, clinging to his pride like a dying man to the hand of his loved ones – a human body could survive up to three weeks without food.

But Dick was tired. So, so incredibly tired of this torture.

Maybe that was why he didn’t even flinch, when she opened the door that day, promises of yet another horror-show heavy in her steps.

“Hello, pet.”

“What do you want?”

There was poison in his voice and yet he couldn’t deny that he was starting to answer her when she called him an animal. A thing to be owned. It was a futile battle, the punishments for not listening so much worse than the pain that came from being a mouthy bitch.

At least he still had his words. At least she hadn’t taken that away from him yet.

“Oh, what I want? How nice of you to ask. I brought a gift with me today. A gift for you actually, my little dog.”

Dick couldn’t help himself, his ears perking up at the mention of a gift. It didn’t matter that his stomach rebelled against the idea of owing her anything, it didn’t matter that the metal of the shackles still chaining him down bit into his skin with every small movement he dared to make.

Maybe she was bringing him food. Or water. Or he would be allowed outside, for an opportunity to stretch his legs and use a toilet.

Gifts were so much better than tasks.

It was so much easier to be offered something freely, without having to beg for it. Without having to allow this monster to continue calling him a dog. He wouldn’t have to cower in front of her (even if he did – always – because of the position of the chains) or _stay down_.

At least that’s how gifts usually worked.

Apparently not today.

Today she stepped closer, pulling something out of the back pocket of her fitted black jeans, as Dick watching with barely hidden apprehension. Something was different today, and he knew that couldn’t bode well for him.

The nausea permanently residing in his stomach intensified as he got a look at just what was hidden in her hand.

No.

**No way.**

_No_.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

_No…_

“I thought it was time I put a nice little collar on my little dog. We can’t have you run around without everyone knowing that you have a rightful owner after all.”

As always, her voice was sickly sweet, her smile that of an angel. But for once Dick couldn’t focus on the disgust her entire appearance curdled in his stomach, his eyes glued to the leather band innocently hanging from her hand.

A collar.

A black collar engraved with the word **PROPERTY**.

 _No_.

Dick wouldn’t let her… he couldn’t… she couldn’t…

From what he could see it was made out of sturdy leather, well-made and almost impossible to rip or tear without the right tools. There was a complicated clasp on one end and Dick already knew that it would be impossible for him to open the collar once it was closed around his neck.

But he wouldn’t let her.

No.

“No. Stay away. I don’t want your fucking gift!”

“Na, na, na…. that is no appropriate way to talk to the person who owns you. I am sure you will understand that so much better once the entire world can see just whom you belong to.”

The world would know, but Dick still had no idea what her name was, who she was, even as she continued to torture and humiliate him.

He wanted his dad to save him. He wanted Bruce to break through the wall, or Superman to sweep down and rescue him, but just… just the image of himself cowering and dressed in old boxer briefs, hunger and piss coloring him taunt, made him stop even in his fantasy.

No, they couldn’t see him like this. They couldn’t see him this broken and small. Dick might not be an animal, but she made sure that Dick rediscovered his animalistic side, she made sure that everything that made him ugly came to the very forefront of his being.

Superman didn’t deserve to see this.

Batman would only turn away.

“Go and fuck yourself!”

But that didn’t mean that Dick wouldn’t struggle. There was still some fight left inside of him, and he would do everything in his might to make sure the collar wouldn’t come to decorate his neck. He had some pride left, some honor still hiding in his bones, and even if he lost – he would know he had that fought when it counted.

“I will have to punish you, dog, when this is over. I was going to offer you a walk as a little treat, but now it seems as if we are back to step one.”

He ignored the shudder than ran down his spine, ignored the sick fear that took hold of his heart at her threat and continued to bare his teeth at her. To spit every insult he could think of in her direction.

But insults were just words, weren’t they? And even if they hurt, they couldn’t stop a physical force.

She stepped closer, pulling a small chain from her jacket and opened the door to his cage. Her nose wrinkled when the smell hit her, Dick having been allowed a shower, but his cage never getting cleaned:

“Once you are better behaved, we can work on getting you a nice dog bed in a bigger room. You have to be potty trained by then though, of course.”

“If you even dare to touch me, I will bite off your finger, fucking bitch.”

He had been witty once upon a time, even if it felt as if that had been eons ago, but now only pure panic was left, his voice rough and jaded as he spit plea and after plea dressed in insults.

She, of course, only laughed and smiled. It was all she ever did, and Dick wanted to rip her mouth apart, tearing her face off her skull in an effort to never have to see those mischievous lips ever again.

“All bark and no bite. What a good dog you are. Even better than I could have ever anticipated. It is as if you were born for this role: A pet kept in a cage.”

He shouldn’t let her words get to him, he should stay strong where she attempted to tear him down, but it was getting harder to keep her green lies outside, especially with the doubt the last few months had sewn inside of him. Especially with all the disappointment Dick had brought those he held dear.

She was a lying bitch, of course, but Dick couldn’t deny the part of himself that wanted to agree with her. He couldn’t deny the small part of his soul that yelled “she is right! She is right! She is right!” whenever she told him just how faulty he was.

But he would still never be her dog.

He would never be the kept pet others saw him as.

“Get away!”

He threw his body against the chains in an attempt to get further away from her. The skin on his wrists split once more, and yet he only managed to add half a foot to the space that still separated them. She was too close. Too close and there was nowhere else Dick could run to.

There was no way to escape, his arms being the one thing keeping him in place.

He was tied down and she was getting closer.

The clasp on the collar caught in the light, the glimmer of metal taunting him with his immediate fate.

This was what horror looked like. This was what death felt like.

He would still be Dick Grayson once the collar was on his neck, but just as he knew that Bruce Wayne was Batman, he would know that some part of his humanity would be stripped away. Gone. There would be a bit less Dick Grayson left in the world, once the leather made contact with his skin, once the clasp got closed only to be never opened again.

She was so close now, kneeling without her pants touching the dirty floor, crouching without losing anything of her regal posture or her power. She was in control, and Dick hadn’t been allowed to forget that from the very first moment he had opened his eyes in this fucking cage.

“It won’t even hurt.”

“Get your dirty fucking paws away from me! I don’t- Get that fucking collar away from me!”

To think that he was Nightwing, a hero praised for his ingenuity and genius, his independence and his skills, was heartbreaking. He had been great – he felt so small. He had been strong – he felt so weak. He had been his own master, overcoming even the Batman – he was the property of a woman he couldn’t even call by her name.

All he had left that still proclaimed his status, his nature, was the mask… the spirit gum holding strong where Dick felt as if he could not.

“So many bad words. If you don’t look out for yourself, I might have to muzzle you. What a sad thing to hide your pretty face and your plush lips behind. But… well, if my dog can’t behave, I will have to teach him manners the old fashioned way.”

His jaw snapped shut with a clack, the fear of his voice being taken away indescribably. His words were the only thing he still had left, the only thing he owned. He couldn’t let her take that as well.

He wouldn’t.

But the gag was just another torture in the future, another tool to break his mind down until only the smallest animal was left, a cowering beast in a place where once had stood a hero. He couldn’t fight the future – all his energy was needed for the present.

Her hands were coming for his neck, and at first, he tried to evade her, sitting back to escape her long fingers, sliding around on the cold floor to increase the distance. But at the end of every maneuver her hands waited, the collar ready, every attempt got stopped before he could really succeed, her nails like claws searching for his demise.

“Hold still, dog. Hold still and get to know your place.”

There was something tight in her voice, as she once again failed at her own attempt to chain him down further. It was the first time Dick heard something besides smug sweetness coming out of her mouth and it felt like a victory.

“Not so easy to bring me down, is it?”

“It was easy enough to plug you from the sky.”

Her bitterness brought promises of future punishment, but Dick felt strong. He felt like himself. Nightwing wasn’t a beaten bird yet, he was still a fighter. Dick Grayson would always be a fighter. Not even humiliation or death or a fucking dog cage could change that.

Even if it felt as if it did.

In a moment of weakness, or just as the culmination of her attempts, her hands found his neck, pressing down before Dick had a chance to react. He wasn’t ready for her assault, air escaping from his lungs, his throat spasming under the surprisingly strong grip.

She had caught him. She had caught him, and she was angry.

Dick wanted to lie and say that he wasn’t scared, but there was nobody here he could lie to. He was alone with this monster, and his own heart was painfully aware of the terror cursing through his veins. But that didn’t mean, that Dick hadn’t just found that ounce of spirit again he had hidden away.

It didn’t mean, that Dick Grayson wouldn’t continue to fight.

More often than not the problem was that he didn’t know when to stop.

The oxygen was running sparse, his own thoughts staring to swim away in a sea of confusion, when Dick threw himself onto the floor, painfully ripping on his wrists, successfully taking her down with him.

A surprised yell escaped her, a sound so beautifully unrehearsed and raw it felt like honey to his ears.

Maybe this had been dumb. He would get punished for this, severely most likely, and he had neither managed to escape, nor had he reached his goal of permanently keeping her from putting the collar on him.

But he had done something. He had made her lose control. He had made her mad.

He had made her touch the same kind of dirt she was using to break him – and was yet disgusted by.

In the great scheme of things this was… barely anything at all, but for a moment Dick’s heart soared. For a moment he felt free, almost like himself, almost like a human…

And then the cold metal clasp of the collar closed around his neck with a final snap, locking him into his existence as a dog.

He was human. Of course, he was. But that collar would tell everyone otherwise.

His eyes met hers and the smile on her face was tight, angry and yet full of evil glee:

“That was something very, very dumb to do… _pet_. Let’s shall see if I can find the muzzle, I had laying around here somewhere. It seems as if I have to take care of your bark as well as your bite.”

The panic settling on his very being felt a lot like dying, but Dick hadn’t given up yet. He had defied her once… and no matter what she would do to him, he would fight her again and again and again:

“Are you afraid of a little dirt, Missy? I heard it is integral to raising a monster.”

Her glare was ice, her voice sweet once more, her words full of poisonous promises:

“I shall get the muzzle then, shan’t I? Oh, and let me tell you… there are many ways to break in a new dog. And I haven’t even tried the best ones yet.”

Dick watched as she left the cage, the leather slowly warming up against his skin, his Adam’s apple getting caught on the edge of the collar every time he swallowed. It was wide enough to comfortably breath – and so tight he wouldn’t be able to forget its presence for even a moment, for even a second of bliss.

As he watched her jacket clad back disappear through the door, Dick wondered if his act of rebellion had been the right one. Or if his fight had simply cost him even more.

The answer was… he didn’t know.

All he knew, was that he had been successfully collared and chained and stripped from his humanity. Or at least parts of it.

All he knew, was that a part of his soul was starting to believe her. Maybe he was just a dirty dog – but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t bite the hand that fed him.


End file.
